Rules of NEST
by Wolfrunner99-2
Summary: Sequel to Transformations. Rules to live by when there is a spy that is part Cybertronian, Humans, and Cybertronians all at the same base, and the stories behind the rules! One rule per chapter, and I don't own NCIS or Transformers! Rated T to be safe because I'm paranoid.
1. That's Good Joe

_**So, I was going through all of my documents, you know, bit of spring cleaning, and I found this thing that I wrote at some point and realized that I had been going to make a sequel to Transformations, but I hadn't had any way to post it, so... Here you go! The long lost sequel! One chapter per rule! Enjoy!**_

* * *

><p><strong>1) Do not mess with the Human's coffee machine. Even if coffee is unhealthy, Humans will hunt you down if they do not have coffee in the morning and YOU are to blame.<strong>

Ratchet glared at the Human machine, his processor formulating a plan to dispose of it. Why the Humans on base insisted on drinking it was beyond him. He was on the verge of a glitch just thinking about all the bad effects the bitter liquid could have on the Humans. Yes, it was definitely time to get rid of that Primus forsaken coffee machine death trap! They would thank him in the long run.

* * *

><p>The next day, Lennox entered the rec room, looking to get himself a cup of coffee. He stared in confusion at the place where the coffee machine used to sit. A note was in its place that read: <em>Coffee is unhealthy for you. Try water. Sincerely, Autobot Commanding Medical Officer, Ratchet.<em>

Lennox snarled at the note and tore it up in his hands angrily. "RATCHET! I'M GOING TO DISASSEMBLE YOU!" Lennox shouted as he stormed out to a supply closet and filled a giant bucket of water. He would show him water. Once he had that, he made his way to the med bay. He got a lot of odd looks from the mechs in the halls, but the other, equally angered soldiers cheered him on. Storming into the bay, he looked around to ensure that the medic was in fact there. He climbed up one of the recharge berths in the bay and shouted to Ratchet, who was indeed there, working on… something… Lennox normally would have politely asked what the normally grouchy medic was working on, fearing his wrath, but at the moment, he just couldn't bring up a very good reason to be interested. In fact, in his caffeine deprived state of mind, the only thing the medic should be working on was returning the precious machine to its proper place.

Ratchet turned to him, curious. Before he could say anything, however, Lennox dumped the water on Ratchet, soaking the bot's chassis. It wasn't really effective and very childish, but the point was made. "Give us back our coffee machine or we take away the high grade," Lennox snapped, "and yes, we DO know where you stash it." He then climbed down and stormed out of the room, ignoring Ratchet's swearing.

* * *

><p>Ratchet glared after him, then set to work. Oh, he would give them their coffee machine. Then, he would cure them all of their absurdly high caffeine addictions. If done right, they would never notice the difference…<p>

* * *

><p>Lennox glared suspiciously at the coffee machine that was sitting in front of him. Mocking him. He KNEW that the Hatchet had done something to it… But what that was…<p>

"Hey, man, ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna get some coffee?" Epps asked, clapping a beefy hand on the Major's shoulder and breaking him from his thoughts.

"What?" Lennox asked his best friend.

"I asked if ya were gonna get some coffee or just stare at it," Epps repeated patiently.

"No, go ahead," Lennox replied, nodding his head to the machine. If anyone could figure out that something was wrong with the coffee, it would be Epps. Epps ALWAYS knew when someone messed with the coffee.

Epps drew a cup from the machine and put it to his lips, not caring how the coffee was hot nor black, simply needing the caffeine. Had it been his second cup, he would have added something to it to battle the bitterness of the heavenly liquid.

Almost as soon as he took a sip, though, he sputtered and spit it out into the conveniently placed sink, as well as dumping the contents of his mug down the drug. "What the HELL is that?" he demanded to Lennox, who grabbed a mug for himself and tried the coffee as well.

A similar reaction happened to him, an almost instantaneous gag reflex to the drink. It didn't taste any different, not to Lennox, not to Epps, and it shouldn't, the coffee had come from an unopened can of Folgers. There was nothing wrong with the filter. Those were brand new, too. So it had to be the machine. Ratchet had done something to the machine that made it so when Humans, or, at least Lennox and Epps, gagged and spit it out the moment it touched their taste buds.

"Hey! Hey, Donnely! Come over here and try this coffee!" Lennox ordered.

"What'd you do to it?" he retorted as he walked over to them.

"Nothing!" Lennox replied, glaring at the coffee machine. "That's why we're so confused!"

Donnely got his own cup of coffee, the same reaction happening to him. "What…?" he asked, so clearly confused.

"Come on, Epps," Lennox growled to his best friend, storming out of the room and knowing Epps was following him.

"Whata we doing?" Epps asked, catching up with the Major easily.

"Stealing Ratchet's high grade," Lennox replied, glaring determinedly ahead of him.

"Wait, the Hatchet did this?" Epps demanded angrily.

"Yes, and we're gonna get him back."

* * *

><p>Ratchet smugly whistled in his med bay, safe in the knowledge that he had carried out his plan to stop this nonsense need for coffee and that he had put enough security around his high grade that the Humans could never hope to get it. He was proved to be very wrong, however, when alarms started blaring around him, signifying that something had blown up and there was need for medical assistance. What had the Humans managed to destroy this time?<p>

He raced to the location of the blast, horrified and recognizing exactly what building it had happened at. They couldn't have gotten to his high grade… could they? He sped just a little faster than he should have at that thought.

* * *

><p>Lennox pulled Epps from the rubble of the grenade that they had launched into Ratchet's security measures, neither of them harmed but knowing that Ratchet and the other bots would be there soon, alerted to the blast. "Come on, man, let's get it and get out," Epps urged, thinking the same thing.<p>

They got the energon out, how, they would never tell, and stored it in a safe place, leaving a note in place of it, just to add insult to injury.

"Now… we wait until we get our ability to drink our coffee again," Lennox sighed, sitting in a chair, sipping on water.

* * *

><p>Ratchet reached the smoking hole in the wall the same time as Ironhide and Optimus did, all staring in horror.<p>

"They stole our high grade!" Ironhide pointed out the obvious.

"They left a note," Optimus pointed out calmly. Ratchet picked it up, reading it silently: _Ratchet, I know I said that if you returned our coffee, I wouldn't steal the high grade, but I, as well as the other Humans agree that by making us inable to drink it counts as not returning it to us. Therefore, when we are able to drink coffee again, you will get your precious high grade back. Sincerely, a very ticked off and caffiene deprived Major William Lennox._

"Ratchet, fix their slagging coffee or I swear, I will never forgive you," Ironhide growled.

* * *

><p>Ratchet hunted down the two humans, dragging the terriefied fleshlings back to his med bay to, hopefully, have a rational conversation and, again, hopefully, knock some sense into them.<p>

"Give it back," he ordered.

"Undo whatever it is that you did to the coffee machine," Lennox replied.

"I did nothing to the COFFEE MACHINE," Ratchet growled slyly.

"Then what did you do?" Epps demanded.

"You have been drinking water, correct?" Ratchet asked, seemingly ignoring the question.

"Yes, we've been drinking water," Lennox snapped, confused.

"Then I see no need to do anything to fix your coffee problem. Coffee is unhealthy and you Humans are all addicted to it," Ratchet rumbled with a tone that should have left no room for argument.

"Then we have no need to return your high grade," Lennox reminded coolly. "What did you do to the water?"

Ratchet glared incredulously at the stubborn human. "I administered a harmless chemical that, when it comes into contact with coffee, sends an impulse to your brain that sets off your involuntary gag reflex, essentially making the coffee undrinkable," he replied.

"You… Ratchet, you can't just go and put a chemical in the water that makes Humans unable to drink something, and especially not because you don't want us drinking coffee!" Lennox protested sternly. "Whatever happened to free will is the right of all sentient beings? That includes what we DRINK and EAT."

Ratchet stared at the Human, surprised that he could come up with such an infallible argument against him. "Very well. I will remove the chemical and YOU will return the high grade to its proper place," he finally agreed.

The next day, the high grade was returned, and Ratchet promised that he had removed the chemical. Of course, he 'forgot' to tell them that it would take some time for the chemical to not only wash out of the plumbing, but out of their bodies as well because they continued to drink the water. It was only after he was confronted that he told them, and they were livid.

* * *

><p>Callen came down with Prowl to visit for a day a week from the incident, Prowl had to deal with something, and went to make himself a cup of tea, only to be grabbed and pulled away, a boughten cup of coffee shoved into his hand by Lennox.<p>

"What?" Callen asked.

"Ratchet put a chemical in the water to stop people from drinking coffee. It took three days to get out of OUR systems, and the tap water still has it in it, but its getting out… eventually. So, until it does get out, we're stuck with this," Lennox explained.

Callen stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was joking or not before handing the coffee back to him. "I was going to have tea, anyway."

"Tea? You drink tea? Who drinks tea?"

"I drink tea," Callen replied, chuckling as he suffered no ill effects from his drink. Lennox glared at him.

"Don't you have a check up with Ratchet to get to?" he snapped.

"Yup! Enjoy your store bought coffee," Callen replied pleasantly as he walked right by the Major and to the med bay, where a very smug looking Ratchet was arranging his tools.

"Hello, Callen," he greeted, turning to the spy and lifting him to the table that the medic used to examine Humans. He glared at the familiar mug in the spy's hand. "Please tell me that isn't coffee," he growled.

"No, it's tea," Callen assured.

"Why can't the rest of the Humans on base drink tea instead of coffee?"

"Because coffee is from heaven and tea is what you drink when you have a boss that will periodically change the coffee from decaf to regular to see the reactions of people," Callen replied, sitting calmly through his examination, idly wondering if he should have told the medic that…


	2. Kidnap Them, I DARE You

_**Here you go! Second rule! Sorry that it's short!**_

* * *

><p><strong>2) Do not hide Sam Witwicky or Will Lennox from their guardians. Remember, Ratchet does not fix injuries caused by stupidity.<strong>

"Don't you ever let them out on their own?" Sunstreaker taunted Bumblebee and Ironhide as they walked into the rec. room shared by both bots and humans, their charges on their shoulders and talking with each other calmly. Their conversation stopped abruptly, though, at the golden mech's comment.

"Do you have a problem, Sunstreaker?" Ironhide growled.

"Yeah, I do! You never leave your little Human pets alone! How are they supposed to DO anything if you never let them?" he sneered in reply.

"Okay, first off, we aren't PETS, Sunny, and second of all, they AREN'T with us all the time, especially not on base. Thirdly, it isn't really any of your business if we decide to stay with our Guardians during the day or not," Sam snapped angrily.

"Decide to stay with them?" Sideswipe scoffed, joining in the conversation as well. "That implies that you can do anything to make them leave you alone and they listen to your opinions!"

"They DO," Lennox snapped, getting annoyed with the two twins. "Now leave us alone."

"No. In fact," Sunny said as he walked closer to them, "I think we'll come just a bit closer and annoy you."

"Try it," Ironhide growled, aiming his cannon at them. When the twins arrogantly took another step closer, he fired twice, hitting them both squarely in the chassis and flinging them both back.

"We'll get you back for this," Sunny growled as he and his twin retreated from the rec room to plot their revenge.

Sam and Lennox share a worried look with each other but figure the twins would go after Bee and Hide and leave them be. How wrong they were.

* * *

><p>Sam was calmly walking to the rec room after having spent the past hour and a half waiting for someone to tell him why he could not leave his room during that time. Apparently, it had been a security glitch and they wanted him out of the way while they were checking it out and getting it fixed. Whatever.<p>

He turned the corner of the building and froze, staring in shock at the golden lamborghini that was sitting idly right in front of the door. The engine roared in, what Sam thought, evil laughter as it inched closer to him. Sam backed a up a few steps, only to find the twin of the car in front of him nearly right behind him, trapping him in.

"Uh, what do you want?" he asked nervously, looking between the two. They transformed and leered down at him, Sunny reaching out and grabbing him, transforming around him and knocking him out.

* * *

><p>Sam woke up to find his arms tied securely behind his back, as well as his legs tied tightly together. There was a gag in his mouth, firmly held there by heavy duty duct tape. What?<p>

Sam looked up and struggled as Will was dragged in, dressed up the same way that he was, his curses muffled by the tape over his mouth. They hadn't knocked him out, then. Will looked at him, anger in his eyes when he saw that they had gotten Sam as well.

The door slammed, leaving Sam and Will alone in the dark. Will kicked him the best he could and asked something that must have been somewhere along the lines of "Are you okay?"

Sam replied with a muffled "Yes" and kicked out again, hitting a box near his leg by accident.

* * *

><p>Bumblebee and Ironhide were frantically searching the base, trying to find their charges. They were running out of places to look in. They had planned to meet in the rec. room after a long day of work, or of doing basically nothing, in Sam's case, but the Humans had never shown up, and no one had seen them. It was more than worrying, especially since Will was never late, and Sam rarely was, either. The fact that they both were...<p>

A slight thump alerted them to an Autobot supply closet. Bee and Hide exchanged looks and opened the door, shocked to find Will and Sam tied up and gagged, struggling to escape. They were quickly freed. When asked who had done it, the two Humans shared looks, as though debating if they should tell.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker," Sam finally admitted.

"What?" Ironhide growled in a tone that had Sam stumbling back from fear. "Sorry, Sam."

"No, no, that's okay…" Sam assured, shaking his head to show that no harm had been done. He rubbed at his wrists, which were red and raw from their bindings.

"How did they get you?" Bumblebee asked.

"I was walking to the rec. room and Sunny was sitting in front of the door, waiting for me. Sides was right behind me… They knocked me out, I woke up in there, and not long after, Will was brought in there, too."

"They got me right outside of my office. Grabbed me, found out that Sunny had used up all their sleeping gas on Sam, so they just tied me up and gagged me and tossed me in there. Said they were getting revenge on Hide for shooting them yesterday."

The two Humans were taken to the med bay to ensure no real harm had been done to them, despite their assurances that they were fine. "Who did this to you?" Ratchet demanded.

"Sunny and Sides," Will reported.

Ironhide and Bumblebee mysteriously went missing from the med bay while Ratchet fussed over them, growling and grumbling in his native language. Judging from how long the rant was, the two Humans didn't want to know what he said.

* * *

><p>The twins were found, hours later, tied up with thick cables, unable to move, their vocal processors offline so they couldn't call for help. There were also multiple dents in their armor. When Optimus found him, he simply pinch the bridge of his nose plate and shook his head, releasing them and sending them to Ratchet. Then, upon finding out that the medic was refusing them treatment, ordering the medic to do his job.<p>

It was only ten minutes after they were released from the med bay that the exasperated Prime found out what had happened and why. He was tempted to call Prowl to the base to yell at the two trouble making frontliners, but resigned to do it himself. Why him?


	3. Protective Instincts

_**HAPPY NEW YEARS! I hope you all enjoy reading this, because I enjoyed writing it for you!**_

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><p><strong>3) Sam Witwicky will not die by getting knocked over. However, harm him and face the wrath of many bots.<strong>

Wheeljack was a recent arrival on base, and thoroughly enthralled by the Human race. Especially Sam. He was so closely guarded by everyone, putting a damper on the scientist's attempts to study the boy. He had witness the twins getting a beatdown for simply driving by the Human too quickly. He wanted to know why. Why were they all so protective?

That was why he was so ecstatic when the young Human had agreed to allow Wheeljack to perform some mild, harmless experiments on him. No harm to either of them. No testing any inventions. Nothing explosive. Perfectly safe.

A gentle mech by nature, he was infinitely gentle with Sam as he stepped willingly into his servo. Then Jack could feel it, the pull that the Human had, that drew in everyone around him. It was… astounding. It was like the little being was the most important thing in his lab, and his processor automatically switched to protective, something that it did not often do.

"Hey Wheeljack! What do you want to experiment with first?" Sam asked eagerly, just as curious as Wheeljack. The scientist thought about it, wanting to save the most dangerous ones for last, or maybe not do them at all. Going off of that, he said one of the most harmless test he had.

"Would you allow me to give you a mild electric shock to study the reaction your body has to it?" Wheeljack asked hesitantly. The shock would be less than that of when a Human discharged excess static on another human.

"Sure, as long as it doesn't hurt too bad," Sam agreed. Unfortunately, both of them had neglected to inform anyone else of what they were doing or where Sam was. Truly, it was Sam's fault, he had forgotten that he had agreed to let Bumblebee know where he was at all times. Wheeljack had a carefully controlled voltage about to touch the bare skin on Sam's arm when three mechs burst into the room, making Wheeljack lose control of the voltage amount and Sam jump, making his skin graze the end of the metal prod and scream in pain. He tumbled off the table, shaking from the lingering currents of electricity that was coursing through his body.

Wheeljack dropped the prod and scooped up the youngling, crooning in apology before rounding on the three mechs that had barged into the room.

"You slagging GLITCHES! You know better than to barge into my lab like that! If the voltage had increased anymore than it had, you could have been the cause of serious injury to Sam!" Wheeljack growl quietly as he curled Sam closer to his spark.

Ratchet, Ironhide and Bumblebee stared at him in shock, and rightly so. Wheeljack never lost his temper, never shouted in anger, and NEVER swore. Their optics lowered to his servo, where the pained gasps of Sam could be clearly heard.

"Even more serious injury, I should say," Wheeljack corrected himself after a moment. Ratchet held his servo out for the Human, wanting to make sure Sam would suffer no lingering effects. Jack handed him over, his temper cooling like magic. He tilted his head to the side, astonished. It was… gone. Well, not all the way. It still lingered, but it was considerably less and within normal ranges for the kind bot.

Ratchet, however, felt his anger increase and thought nothing of it. He glared at Wheeljack as he completed the scans, relieved to find that little damage had been done, only a barely second degree burn where the prod had touched his skin.

"Ratchet... hand him back back to me for a moment," Wheeljack ordered softly.

"Why?" Ratchet growled in reply.

"Humor me," Wheeljack evaded. Ratchet reluctantly passed Sam back to the scientist, again, not paying attention as his anger decreased to nearly nothing. In its place was curiosity for what Wheeljack was doing.

"Your anger went down, did it not?" Wheeljack asked.

"Yes?" Ratchet replied, not understanding the significance of that fact.

"So did mine when I passed him to you."

Understanding dawned on the medic. "You think that it's him," he stayed bluntly.

"Yes, I do. I recently found out that I have... to put it in Human terms, protective instincts whenever I am holding him. They increased when he was injured and you were seen to be the cause," Wheeljack explained.

"Astounding!" Ratchet vented. "But you need to hand him back to me so I can heal that burn on his arm."

"Yes, of course. Now all of you get out of my lab, please. We do not want anyone losing any limbs, now do we?" Wheeljack asked cheerfully.

* * *

><p>After extensive, but non invasive and harmless, testing, they found that Sam had a sort of selective self defense against harm were anybot to touch him. Of course, they doubted it would work on Cons, only coming out when he experienced mild anxiety, such as having tests run on him by a mech known for blowing himself and others to pieces.<p>

It was also found that some mechs experienced it more than others, such as Bumblebee and Ironhide. They did not know if Prowl would join that short list, too, but the running theory was that mechs that had Guardian programming active upon contact would be affected more than a mech that did not.

Another discovery from that little mishap, Optimus was not happy with ANYONE for what happened and gave Sam a stern lecture about keeping his promise to Bee and telling him where he was at all times.


	4. Breaking The Rules Can Be A Good Thing

**_Here you go! Considerably longer than the first three, and I hope I can keep doing that! Hope you enjoy it!_**

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><p><strong>4) Allowing Sam to watch you shoot in the target range is fine, so long as Bumblebee is there as well.<strong>

Callen glared at his car that was idly sitting in his driveway innocently. "No."

"G, get in," Prowl ordered, venting in frustration.

"No. I. Have. A. Case."

"I have orders."

"I have LIVES on the line!" Callen snarled, knowing that it wouldn't do anything to convince his car.

"You have a team that can handle this on their own. The city will not be destroyed by your not being here for a single week," Prowl retorted.

"I am not going," Callen declared.

"G, do not start this. We have discussed this before. Just get in my alt-mode and stop arguing with me," Prowl ordered.

G glared and resolutely turned around, storming out the back door. He had needed to go for a run, anyways. Not that he was supposed to. Actually, Ratchet had specifically told him that he should not be running for long periods of time. His job should be the only thing that warranted him running. Oh well. He didn't plan on going to the newly moved Diego Garcia base, which was now on an island in the Indian Ocean, reachable only via a plane or ship.

"G! Don't you dare!" he heard Prowl shout as he tied his running shoes and took off out the backdoor, leaping over fences to get to the sidewalk before setting off at a steady pace, knowing that it would take a while for his guardian to get to this particular road. It also meant that he was further away from his job, but he could deal with that.

* * *

><p>He only had a half mile to go when Prowl finally caught up to him, slowing and growling angrily next to him. "G, you were told to NOT run," he reminded.<p>

"So?" Callen retorted, not slowing his pace, in fact, he increased it. Prowl growled again, cutting the spy off at the entrance to the supposedly condemned building. "Get out of my way, Prowl."

Prowl revved his engine angrily. "Get in, G. Now. You are acting like a child," he snapped, quickly losing his patience with his charge.

"Prowl, move. You're gonna make me late," Callen growled, just as angrily.

"So help me, Callen, I will bring Hetti out here," Prowl threatened.

"So? You gonna make a point with that?" Callen snarked.

"Well, Mr. Callen, I believe there is little point to be made."

Callen jumped and turned around to find the small woman right behind him. "Hetti."

"Mr. Callen, I suggest you turn around and go with Mr. Prowl," she ordered.

"But, Hetti, we have a case!" Callen protested.

"And the case will go on without you. Now, shoo. I have phone calls to make and an operations unit to run! If I see you here again within the next seven days, there will be dire consequences, Mr. Callen," Hetti informed him.

Callen gaped at his boss, unsure how to respond to that.

"Mr. Callen, why are you still here?" she demanded crossly. Callen clenched his jaw and sullenly did as ordered, going to the driver's seat, only to find the door lock. The spy stared in astonishment at his car. The passenger door opened on the other side, and Callen sputtered.

"Are you kidding me?" he demanded.

"No. Get it," Prowl ordered. Callen ground his teeth to control his temper as he got in the passenger seat.

"You know, people'll notice that there is no one driving," he growled in warning as the door slammed closed and the seat belt lock tightly around him.

Callen went for his gun the moment a man suddenly was in the driver's seat, only for him to be disarmed and somehow have handcuffs on, tightly entrapping his wrists and securing them to the oh shit handle above his head. "What the hell, Prowl?" he growled, struggling to get out of the cuffs. The seat belt somehow tightened even more, making it so he couldn't move from the seat at all as the car sped away, towards the tarmac. At least they would be taking a plane and not a ship. Prowl's alt-form shifted, becoming a police cruiser, which was his prefered alt-form whenever they weren't in LA.

"This is a holoform, G. Very useful when we need to blend in," he finally said after about ten minutes of G struggling and cursing heavily.

Callen was silent, just glaring at the holoform, memorizing it. He was tall, about six four, with dark, black hair. He had tanned skin, though it was more that of being outside in the sun a lot rather than an indication of ethnicity. The man was clean shaven and was wearing dark blue jeans, boots, and a black button up shirt. Calculating blue eyes glared at the road, and his expression was decidedly neutral.

"Agent Callen, you cannot fight me everytime I am ordered to bring you to Diego Garcia. I dislike having to restrain you to ensure you do not do anything rash."

"Yes, because this is such a great reason to WANT to go there," Callen muttered.

Prowl glared sharply at him. "Agent Callen, your insistence on avoiding check ups or the base in general could be detrimental to your health. You must stop acting so childish whenever you are forced to face the fact that you have to go there."

"You need to stop kidnapping me," Callen retorted.

"I wouldn't have to kidnap you if you would follow orders."

"I don't take orders from you," Callen snapped.

"Yes, you do. The sooner you realize that, the easier it will be for everyone, Agent Callen."

"Well then everything is going to be difficult, because I DON'T take orders from you, and I don't actually need a guardian. Especially not such a sparkless bastard like you. Seriously, you need to lay off, you are not my mother," Callen growled. It was a low blow, but Prowl brushed it off, knowing that his charge was trying to get a rise out of him. It didn't make his words hurt any less, though.

"I would pity your mother, were she still alive," he replied instead. That was a very low blow as well.

Callen abruptly ended the conversation, realizing that Prowl was baiting him as well. They pulled into the cargo jet, being greeted by Lennox and Ironhide. Prowl still refused to release Callen, even after the jet took off, knowing that he would find SOME way off of it. Still, he transformed, careful not to crush his charge, and leaned against the wall, Callen firmly secured on his shoulder.

"Are you being serious right now?" G scowled.

"Yes. Be grateful that I did not knock you out," Prowl replied.

"Right, because that's what normal people are thinking about," Callen grumbled.

"You are hardly normal."

"You think I don't know that?" Callen snapped.

Lennox looked between the two of them, realizing that the two were fighting. Again. They simply could not agree with the other. They were like oil and water. Or, rather, that is how they showed themselves to others and each other. Lennox guessed it was because they were so similar, it was hard for them to admit that.

"You two fighting again?" he asked, just to be courteous.

"He kidnapped me," Callen explained.

"He disobeyed orders," Prowl defended.

"I don't take orders from you!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No."

"Yes."

Lennox sighed, sharing a long suffering look with his own guardian, and they sat for the rest of the trip, listening to Prowl and G argue loudly back and forth. They were still arguing as they walked to the med bay, drawing looks from the inhabitants but ignoring them.

* * *

><p>"Would you two shut up?" Ratchet roared, having heard them five minutes ago and grown very irritated with it. Prowl and Callen abruptly ended their fight, staring at the medic expectantly.<p>

"I apologize, Ratchet. Here he is," Prowl said, uncuffing the spy and handing him over to Ratchet while Callen rubbed at his wrists to restore the feeling to them.

Ratchet and Callen did not speak once Prowl left. "I see no changes in your condition-"

"There never is," Callen griped. Ratchet ignored his outburst and plowed on.

"-but you still have to come here whenever you arrive on base and before you leave. Now, there are some other tests I want to run on you, so hold still," he finished.

Callen sat through them, not knowing what the tests were for. In reality, they were the same tests they had run on Sam, finding the same results. Interesting.

"Can I go now, Ratchet?" he finally asked, tired and annoyed with the tests.

"Yes, go. Get! Out of my med bay!" Ratchet ordered, ushering the spy out via throwing wrenches at him. Callen growled and went straight to the shooting range, pulling out of his gun and shooting again and again to take his anger out. He failed to notice Sam slink inside as well, hoping to avoid his guardian. Prowl and Callen weren't the only ones that had been arguing about not going to the base. Sam just wanted a normal life. Bee wanted Sam as protected and guarded as he could make it.

"Hey, G," Sam greeted as Callen put down his gun finally. Callen jumped, aiming the gun at the teen, who raised his hands in surrender, just as Bumblebee finally found them and only saw Callen angrily aiming a gun at his charge. He barrelled in, aiming his own cannon at the spy warningly. Sam yelped, quick to try to explain the misunderstanding. "Hey! Hey, put the guns down! Bee, he wasn't going to shoot me, I just startled him! The gun isn't even loaded!"

"Sammy, what are you doing in here? You know better than to be in here when someone is shooting!" Callen scolded, completely ignoring Bee as he lowered his gun and set it back on the table. Bee reluctantly subspaced his cannon as well, knowing the answer.

"Well, I was trying to find a place that… Bee wouldn't look for me… We got into a fight… I just want a normal life, and I keep getting dragged back here…" Sam replied sheepishly, staring at the floor. Callen sighed, rubbing at his face tiredly.

"Yeah, that's what we all want, kid," he sighed, putting a comforting hand on the teen's shoulder. "But this is NOT a good place to hide out."

"Yeah… didn't think this one through all the way…" Sam agreed, turning sheepishly to his miffed guardian. "Sorry, Bee. Guess I was acting pretty childishly… It's just… I wish I could go back to when I wasn't constantly being watched because some vengeful Con wants revenge on me… I mean… I'm not even out of high school and I KILLED someone… it's hard to accept that it'll never be the same… Not that I really want it to, I would never want that. Meeting you was the best thing ever…"

Callen suddenly felt really guilty as he realized how selfish he had been to Prowl… Not to mention he hadn't even thought of how much the tactician probably hated LA and would prefer to be in HIS version of normal instead of constantly watching over the hero-complexed twenty seven year old spy.

"Yeah, that's great. See you later, Sammy," Callen said as he ran, whoops, best not let Ratchet see him.

"Wh- oh, well, bye," Sam replied, a little shocked by the abruptness. Callen ran right past the med bay, then stopped, turning back and looking in on where his Guardian was. He was staring at a broken frame, well, it was repaired, but it was obvious something that had happened to it, and the mech was weakly talking back to him. Callen had never met him, and he realized he really didn't know anything about Prowl. He watched silently, listening in as they talked.

"-et says you're recovering well, but you insist on moving when you should not, Jazz," Prowl was scolding sternly.

"What can I say? I ain't meant ta be sittin' here in one place all o' the time, Prowler. I'm a saboteur. It ain't in ma programming!"

Saboteur. This Jazz was a spy? Callen, careful to ensure he still couldn't be seen or heard, crept closer.

"You do not have to remind of that fact, I am very familiar of this fact," Prowl growled, though it was soft, caring.

"So when am I gonna meet this infamous G Callen, ma mate?" Jazz asked crossly. Callen felt even guiltier at that. He hadn't known Prowl was sparkmated to anyone.

"When you are able to walk on your own two pedes again, without help," Prowl replied, venting heavily.

"Now that ain't fair, Prowler. I want ta meet tha' little slagger and not in a few months when I'm fully healed! I've heard him when he's with Ratch, and he sounds like more o' a workaholic than ya are!" Jazz complained.

"I still care about my health. He, however, constantly refuses medical attention unless he is forced into it, he rarely sleeps, and I swear to Primus, he truly believes his life is not worth saving if he is saving someone else. Slaggit, he's like YOU."

"Well, ain't he a human saboteur? That shouldn' be all tha' surprisin', Prowler," Jazz scoffed.

Callen backed out of the room silently, making sure they weren't alerted to his presence. He walked out of the base, needing to think, to calm his mind from the whirlwind of information that he had just acquired. He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked at the sea and realized that he had never even considered Prowl had a loved one, and especially not one that was recovering…

* * *

><p>He finally just sat on the beach, staring at the waves that seemed so peaceful but knew hid such hidden dangers and buried secrets in it depths…<p>

"G?"

Callen looked at Prowl, who was staring at him uncertainly. "Yeah? What do you need?" he asked.

"Sam said that you were looking for me. I apologize that you couldn't find me. I was in the med bay," Prowl replies.

"You okay?" Callen asked.

"Yes, of course. Are you? You seemed to be very deep in thought."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just something Sam said made me realize that I've been… really selfish. I guess he's not the only one that wishes things could be back to our versions of our normal. I never considered what you might feel on the matter… That maybe you wanted to be with your team and do your job just as much as I want… that you probably never wanted to babysit some spy with a lot of bad luck and nearly gets himself blown up every other. I'm sorry for that, Prowl. Especially for saying you're a sparkless bastard. I know you're just looking out for me and doing your job and all…"

Prowl tilted his head to the side and bent down, holding his servo flat in an invitation to climb on. Callen brushed off the sand and climbed on, being brought to optic level. "I forgive you. It is hardly fair of me to constantly nag you about your health and such. It is not as though you do not have a reason to constantly stay in LA. It seems that… we are both at fault here."

"Yeah… I guess we were… Man am I glad Sam was in the firing range without Bumblebee…"


	5. Stubborn Humans

_**Rule five for you all, hope you enjoy it! Just so you know, those of you following this, this is not the original version of the story I wrote, actually quite different. WHEN I AM DONE WITH THE RULES, I WILL POST THE ORIGINAL RULES, WHEN THAT HAPPENS, FEEL FREE TO TELL ME WHICH ONE YOU LIKE BETTER!**_

* * *

><p><strong>5) If you need it or want it, help is always there for you in any of the Autobots or members of NEST and NCIS.<strong>

* * *

><p>Sam rocketed out of bed at the sound of an explosion. He groaned, turning over and pulling his pillow over his head. It was far too early in the morning for a Decepticon attack. Another explosion sent him tumbling off the cot that he was laying on.<p>

He sighed. Of course he wouldn't be allowed to get any sleep. Of course not. It's not like he had been dragged across the world after finals had gotten out, away from Christmas with his family to the highly classified military base known as Diego Garcia because of a possible Decepticon sighting near him. He had scoffed and complained, but apparently there truly was a Con threat. Mostly on the base he was at.

"It is way too early to deal with this," he finally said out loud. His voice echoed around the room, and he didn't bother to try the door. He knew that it would be securely locked to prevent anyone from getting it. Or from pesky humans trying to sleep from getting out to investigate what was going on.

_I do not understand your desire to see for yourself what you already know is happening. They are all acting like sparklings, shooting each other, and making a rather large mess._

Sam thought about Primus' input, shrugging. "Just because you KNOW something doesn't mean you still don't want to SEE it."

_Sleep, young one. You have been getting less and less of it lately, as well as nourishment… Samuel, your health is declining and it is rather worrying._

Sam sighed, knowing that Bee was starting to notice that he had been eating less and less. It wasn't his fault. Every night without fail, at some point, his sleep was disturbed with images of a decimated Cybertron, and somehow, that didn't really give him an appetite. He knew he was going to have to talk to someone about it, but who would believe him if he told them that he could talk to Primus, and that the alien god talked to him back?

Slowly, Sam fell back asleep, the images soon coming, and it would have taken the Cons to come directly into his room and fight for him to be able to distinguish what was reality and what was past in the sound and fighting aspect of it.

"Sam!" someone shouted, shaking his shoulder. Sam bolted up, stomach turning at the sudden movement and the images lingering in his head. He shoved Epps away from him, vomiting onto the floor violently, shaking and retching.

"Someone get Ratchet!" Epps ordered into his radio, holding the teen up as he vomited again. Epps was concerned how most of it was water and there was very little food. Like the kid hadn't eaten a proper meal in a while.

Sam blinked open his eyes, groaning at seeing the bright light above his head. He sat up dry heaving. Nothing was left in his stomach, but it was still awful. Gentle pressure on his back steadied him, and the feeling of nausea soon faded.

"Easy, Boy, I've got you," Optimus rumbled soothingly, his deep baritone bouncing off the walls of the med bay, making it sound like it surrounded the young human. Sam gasped, wishing the awful taste in his mouth would go away.

"Can I get some water?" he croaked.

"Here," Optimus replied after a moment, and Sam found a glass of water being gently pressed into his hand. He gulped it down greedily, whining when it was swiftly taken away from him after a few sips. "Slowly, Sam. We don't want it you vomiting again."

Sam nodded in understanding. Right. That made sense. He should have known that already. After a few minutes of simply sitting there and trying to get his bearings back, he was handed back the cup of water, which he slowly sipped from under the watchful optics of Optimus Prime. At that time, he noticed how no one else was there and that Optimus had deployed his holoform.

"Where's Ratchet?" Sam asked.

"I sent him out. This does not need to reach his audios unless you want it to," Optimus replied gently.

"What doesn't…?" Sam asked, confused. The holoform gave him a stern look and crossed his arms. The dark brown haired, pale, slightly tanned skinned, six foot five, flannel shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots wearing holoform raised an eyebrow and Sam realized what he meant. "Oh… that…"

"When were you planning on telling… anyone that you were communicating with Primus and suffering ill effects from it?" Optimus demanded.

"What was I supposed to say?" Sam countered, fidgeting with the glass in his hands, careful not spill any of the water inside.

"I do not know, Sam. But this could have truly caused more harm than it has, had you not told anyone and this had not happened. You've been getting too little sleep, you have not been eating, and you are severely dehydrated. Ratchet wanted to put you on an IV to ensure you were getting the proper nutrition you need."

"How did you… find out about it, anyways," Sam asked.

"You are not the only one that talks with Primus. You cannot keep these things from us, Sam. I understand that you wish to have a normal life, but I am sorry to inform you that it will be completely impossible because of this. No matter what you do, you will be tied in this war somehow, and you will be tied to US," Optimus informed him gravely, forcing the young teen's head up to look him in the eyes. Of course, this was using the holoform, so this was much easier than if he had done this without it.

Optimus knew full well that the anger that he saw in Sam's eyes was completely justified, but it still hurt how much the boy seemed to despise the truth of his situation. That his NEED for normalcy was going to be shoved aside because of things that were out of his control. They always seemed to be out of his control.

"I know… I just… I wish… I wish it had happened to someone else. Someone who could have dealt with it better. Who wasn't so much of a burden on everyone," the boy admitted, looking back at the glass in his hand.

"Samuel, look at me," Optimus ordered. Hazel eyes reluctantly looked up, apprehension and resignation in them. Optimus realized that Sam was thinking that Optimus was going to confirm what he had just said. "Sam, why would you think something like that? Why would you think that you were a burden on us?"

Sam blinked, confused. "Isn't obvious? I'm pretty much useless. I just get in the way… That's what my parents said when I told them that I wouldn't be home for Christmas…"

"Sam… I thought you still lived with your caretakers…? You have only just turned seventeen…" Optimus asked, now very concerned. Sam shook his head.

"I've been staying at Miles… my parents kicked me out because they couldn't get any sleep from my screaming… from the stuff that Primus showed me… Went so far as threatening to disown me if I didn't show up for Christmas, too… Then Mikaela broke up with me because of it..."

Optimus was shocked to hear of this. Bumblebee hadn't mentioned it in any of his reports… Why had he not mentioned this? Had they known…

"Samuel, I did not realize how much trouble we have caused you," the Prime lamented.

"It's noth-" Sam began to brush it off before cutting himself off with a shaky breath. "Well… It could be worse."

"Samuel, never think you are useless, and Primus forbid you ever think you are a burden to us. I do not believe anyone else could have done what you have for us. Sam, your fate has been intertwined with our race since before thought of you was conceived, by your ancestor, and now it is showing again that you were destined to be here, Primus himself is showing us that. You will ALWAYS have NEST to help you and support you," he assured sternly. He was not surprised at the sobs that came from the teen, and gave a very human gesture of comfort by pulling the smaller being into his holoform's arms, holding him tightly as the teen cried.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Sam was released from the med bay and he was sitting in the rec room, staring out the window at the rain that was falling down heavily. So much for a white Christmas… He let out a heavy sigh and looked up at the loud crashing. Please not another Decepticon attack!<p>

Instead, when he went to investigate, he saw that something had fallen when Prowl rolled in, which was concerning enough. "Hey. You okay, Prowl? I thought you were staying with G for Christmas in LA…"

"We had planned on that. Unfortunately, Callen had a mission overseas and would have had to stay there over Christmas had the NEST jet not picked him up… unfortunately, we had to land because of the storm… It appears we are spending Christmas here…" Prowl explained, carefully opening his passenger door to reveal a rather bloody and bruised Callen.

"Hey kid," he greeted, climbing out of the car and leaning heavily against his guardian. Sam stared in horror and what appeared to be whip lashes barely visible because they were hidden beneath a bloody and torn jacket. "Heard you've been having a bad Christmas…"

"Yeah… G, um, I'm getting Ratchet," Sam said as he took in the other gashes and bruises and… were those burns? Callen looked like he was going to protest, but Sam had already taken off, quickly informing Ratchet of what condition Callen was in. The fact that it appeared the nanites in Callen's body were not reacting was troubling and suggested that he had been mildly affect by an EMP. Good thing it hadn't shut down his lungs or heart. Or both.

Sam help G to the med bay, Ratchet preparing the med bay for him. "G… what happened?" he finally asked.

Callen sighed painfully, "Bad intel. Bad timing. Bad place. Turned out that our mole was a double agent. Sold me out. Walked into an ambush. Captured. This happened… Not the worst condition I've been in…"

Sam balked at the casual way his friend talked about what had happened to him. "Wow… that bites…"

"Not as bad as what I heard happened with you… Sam, I am so sorry I couldn't be there to help."

"What could you have done?" Sam asked bitterly.

"Foster kid, remember? I know what it's like to be tossed away like garbage…" Callen replied, just as bitter. "But at least you have a family to take care of you. I didn't have that."

Sam nodded slowly, his mood lifted slightly. Yeah, G was right. "Thanks G… I think that was just what I needed to hear… But seriously, what did they DO to you? You've got burns, cuts, bruises… Callen, it looks like they WHIPPED you," he said, changing the subject back to the spy.

Callen sighed and gave a short chuckle. "Sammy, you are too young to start mother henning me. I'll be fine."

"You're gonna have to tell Ratchet," Sam warned.

"Says who?" Callen challenged.

"Says him," Sam retorted. Callen groaned, shaking his head slightly in apprehension.

They finally made it to the med bay, where both Prowl and Ratchet were talking to a figure that was now sitting up. "Jazz!" Sam greeted in delight. He had heard that he was recovering from his ordeal in Mission City, but he hadn't realized that he was up and talking so soon.

"Jazz?" Callen asked, confused. Oh, right, the spy had never met the saboteur.

Callen's proper introduction would have to wait, because Ratchet took one look at him and screeched angrily and gently grabbing him and putting him on the examination table for humans. Sam was ushered out, no one wanting MORE nightmares to plague the boy.

Ratchet swiftly cut away his jacket that was wet with fresh blood. It was obvious that Callen had only just gotten these injuries that day, and his moving around was preventing them from scabbing over. The medic almost wished he hadn't, if only to hide the gruesome sight that the cloth hid.

Callen bit his cheek to keep from crying out as the jacket disappeared, cold air biting his bare skin, cooling and soothing some wounds, but providing more torture to others.

"Had you been able to return to LA, you would not have sought medical help, would you?" Ratchet asked, taking inventory of the wounds, starting on his head.

"You already know that answer, Ratchet," Callen replied, flinching back as Ratchet sent out his holoform and grabbed a cloth dipped in alcohol, cleaning away the blood as well as disinfecting the area. Ratchet firmly gripped the back of Callen's head so he could keep moving away.

"Hold still. You're worse that Ironhide. Now, tell me what happened to you."

"You can see what they did to me," Callen retorted.

"Callen, start talking. Now."

"No-ack!" Callen began to say, his words turning into a pained yelp as Ratchet roughly cleaned out a particularly deep gash in his cheek. Ratchet scowled upon finding a large piece of glass embedded in it. Gently, he pried it out, putting it in the tray next to him.

"I'm assuming that was from a window," Ratchet commented.

Callen didn't answer, but the look on his face was answer enough. "So you were running, which meant your cover was blown and you were being chased. Judging by everything else, you were caught and tortured for information. Judging by how beaten you are, you did not give up that information, they REALLY wanted that information, or they decided to make you suffer before they even started the interrogation."

"Answer is D, all of the above," Callen finally admitted.

Ratchet carefully began cleaning the blood and burnt skin off off Callen's chest and stomach, glad that the wounds didn't seem to go any further down. Pulling more glass and other bits of shrapnel from his arms and shoulders, he finally took a look at Callen's shredded back. It was still bleeding heavily, and that is what he set to work stopping first. Whoever had done this was intent on causing as much pain as possible, because the lashes crossed over each other, making shallow slices into furrows in the frail skin. There also seemed to be dirt and metal and glass PRESSED into the wound, as well as salt. Cleaning that out was a long and painful process that everyone was amazed that Callen could stay silent during. His guardian and Jazz remained silent as well, simply watching as Ratchet finally deemed him as fixed as able.

"Why are your nanites not healing you?" the medic finally asked.

"EMP…" Callen answered reluctantly.

"I thought as much… until they come back online themselves, there is nothing more I can do, other than bandage it and keep it from getting infected," Ratchet concluded.

"Got it," Callen replied shortly.

"I'm giving you painkillers as well," Ratchet warned.

"No, Ratchet. I can deal with the pain," Callen snapped.

"That was not me ASKING if you wanted them, Agent Callen. You are getting the painkillers. They should help you sleep. Avoid lying on your back or your stomach."

"So, I'm supposed to sleep standing up?" Callen snarked.

"No, I was going to suggest sleeping on your side. Hold still," Ratchet replied, bandaging the spy's torso and shoulders, as well as much of his arms. He looked like he was halfway through becoming a mummy. "Don't let those get wet, either, and don't do any strenuous activities."

"I won't," Callen growled as Ratchet filled a needle with some painkillers. "Ratchet, I don't need any painkillers."

"Of course not," Ratchet humored him as he injected it into G's bloodstream. Immediately, the pain faded away, but his thoughts slowed as well. Not enough to affect him in a normal setting, but if he was attacked, there was no way he could react fast enough. "Now, I suggest you meet Jazz. I think you two will find you have a lot in common."

* * *

><p>Callen glared after the medic as he dragged Prowl out of the med bay, leaving the two injured beings alone. Very slowly, Callen stood up, intent on getting down from the table. Until he realized that it was fifteen feet off the ground and he would probably kill himself if he tried to get down in his current state. Jazz seemed just as reluctant to start a conversation as Callen, so they just sat in an awkward silence.<p>

"So… You're the infamous G Callen…" Jazz finally said.

"Yeah… You're Jazz… who I know nothing about, other than you're important to Prowl…" Callen replied, lying a small bit.

Jazz nodded. "How'd ya cover get blown?"

"Our informant was a double agent…" Callen replied. Jazz winced.

"Hate it when that happens."

"You a spy?"

"Cybertronians call 'em a saboteur, which is what I am, or a scout… Humans just combined the two. Course, scouts have a more dangerous job. Got ta stay there and gather intel. Saboteurs are just there for the short missions. Get in and get out. Simple as that."

"Well, I haven't had something like this happen to me in a while… NCIS normally has just simple, straightforward missions… Most of the time, it's just in LA, stopping murders and dealing with terrorist attacks…" Callen replied.

"Sounds awful."

"Someone has to do it," Callen shrugged before deciding that was a very bad idea.

"So… Ta introduce myself, uh, properly and all, I'm Jazz, saboteur and Third in Command o' the Autobots. Got ripped in half durin' the Battle o' Mission City… Sparkmate o' Prowler, too…"

"Uh, right… Senior Special Agent G Callen of NCIS. Former CIA, former Marine… former a lot of other things… Got five shots to the chest when Mission City went down, right when the All Spark sent out a pulse… saved my life, but now I've got a metal skeleton and half my lungs and heart, and nanites that, well, NORMALLY heal me from any injuries I get… Uh, Prowl is my guardian, but you already knew that…" Callen replied.

"Not used ta introducin' yaself?" Jazz asked.

"No. Not myself. People I'm pretending to be, yeah… but I don't normally meet new people. Or aliens. Or anyone. Not as myself."

Jazz made a noise that sounded half pitying, half amused with his answer. "So, what's eatin' at ya, kid? Other than bein' tortured and forced ta get medical attention."

Callen gave the other spy a surprised look. "I didn't realize I was hinting at anything being wrong…" he evaded.

"Ya have more bags under ya eyes than I have gears, ya obviously haven't been eating, if ma scans are correct, an' they are, and ya keep reachin' for the place where I'm assumin' ya normally have ya gun," Jazz replied. "Not ta mention ya didn't put up as big o' a fuss with ol' Hatchet as ya normally do. Didn't even try ta detatch his servo!"

Callen sighed and made to rubbed tiredly at his haggard face before thinking better of it. "Nothing important," he finally said. "Just haven't been sleeping very well lately, and my appetites been off after I DO sleep."

"Funny, that sounds like…" Jazz mused before going silent. Not ten seconds later, Ratchet, Sam, Prowl, and Optimus Prime, himself, were all in the med bay as well, glaring at him sternly.

"Uh… I have no idea what I did wrong, but…" Callen began to say before getting cut off by the ever so helpful voice of Primus in his head.

_You have done nothing wrong, they are simply concerned._

Wait, they knew? How could they know?

_I told them. Your health is in a very dangerous condition, and you need as much rest and nutrience as possible._

Callen glared at the metal of the examination table, just processing that information.

"Mentioning you had a god talking to you in your head is definitely something you should have done, Agent Callen," Ratchet growled, crossing his arms.

"Oh, yeah, that would have went well," Callen snapped sarcastically. "If I had said that, I would have been kept here and then I would be of no use to anyone."

"I am tempted to add lacking in self worth to the list of symptoms, but, unfortunately, they both reportedly had that before any of this happened," Ratchet reported. "While, yes, you would, and WILL be kept at base to ensure your own safety, I highly doubt that you would be useless. It's not in your nature to sit idly.

"Ratchet, I'm a spy. This is a military base. I have no uses being stuck here."

"Maybe not as a spy, but you have other skills than just that. I would not attempt to argue with me in your current condition, either. It would not bode well for you."

"You can't order me to stay on this base, any of you. I don't follow your chain of command and I sure as hell don't take orders from you," Callen snapped.

"Then it appears that you have been kidnapped. Again. I suggest you hand over your weapon and your phone, Agent Callen," Optimus replied gravely. Callen gaped at him before sighing and pulling his phone slowly from his pocket and handing it to the Prime with stiff movements.

He bit his tongue until he tasted blood when he grabbed his gun from the waistband of his jeans, pain flaring despite the painkillers he was on. He carefully dismantle the gun before handing that over to Optimus as well. Ratchet was on him again in a moment, carefully undoing the bandages that had been bled through as the wounds reopened from his movements.

"Slagging idiot," the medic growled.

"What do ya mean, kidnapped again?" Jazz asked, confused.

Ratchet growled the answer as he wrapped fresh bandages over the wounds, "The first time he met us, we kidnapped him from the hospital he was in from the poorly repaired bullet wounds he had received a week prior."

"Why?"

"We had need of his skills of getting in and out of the Hoover Dam quickly, without breaking the treaty," Prowl replied. Callen glared up at him. "Though I am hoping this time he does not put up the fight he did last time." Callen snorted at that, rolling his eyes.

"Right, like I'm in any condition to do that," he snarked. "But once I AM healed, I'm going back to LA if I have to build myself a raft."

"I'm sure we'll have Hetti's backing your staying here long before that happens," Prowl scoffs. Callen frowned at that, knowing that if Hetti told him he was to stay at the base, he would stay at the base. Prowl knew it, too.

"You're calling her, aren't you?" he asked sullenly.

"Yes. But not today. I do not believe it would be wise to ask her such a thing on Christmas."

Callen sighed as he got back to his feet, leaning on Ratchet's servo as it steadied him. "Well, since I apparently have been kidnapped and it IS Christmas… can I call Sam to apologize for missing it?"

"I believe that could be arranged. A video conference is what he suggested," Prowl replied.

"Wait, what?" Callen demanded, surprised.

"He asked me if you would be back in the states in time. I informed him that you would not be."

"Perfect," Callen grumbled sarcastically.

"While you are waiting for the call to connect, you can eat. Sam, you as well. You are both on my slag list until further notice," Ratchet ordered. Sam and Callen shared a look and sighed. Ratchet's slag list was not a good place to be.

Callen was not allowed to walk on his own, instead, the cursed wheelchair made another appearance, much to his dismay. Jazz, wanting to cheer the spy up, sent out his holoform, which was also took a wheelchair because of the fact that he was still recovering. Callen gave the dark skinned, bright blue eyed holo a grateful look. Prowl looked between them with his own holoform, trying to figure out which one he was going to push until Sam grabbed Callens and started off to the Mess Hall.

Ratchet followed as well, picking out their food for them, much to their initial dismay, but Ratchet wasn't being the health nut he normally was, getting them both steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, a roll, and lots of vegetables and fruits.

"Ratchet, there is no way I am eating all of that," Callen warned.

"Too bad," the medic growled as they moved to the rec. room that was empty except for them, a large screen with Sam's living room in it occupying an entire wall.

"Hey, G," Sam greeted upon seeing his partner.

"Sam," Callen replied, grinning upon seeing the two girls that were trying to be sneaky and hide from their father while still seeing who he was talking to.

"UNCLE GREG!" they shouted, forgetting about hiding and joining their father in the view of the screen.

"What happened to you!?" Shaniqua asked, gasping at seeing him.

"I got into a car accident," G lied easily.

"Are you okay?" Monique asked next.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Sorry I couldn't make it to Christmas. I had presents for you two!"

"That's okay. Daddy went to your house and picked them up," they assured.

"GIRLS! Get up here and clean this room before your cousins get here!" Michelle's voice ordered from off screen.

"Yes, mom! Uncle Greg's on the TV talking with Daddy! He said he got into a car crash!" Monique tattled.

"How bad was your 'car crash'?" Sam demanded.

"Oh, noting major, couple of cuts and bruises, got some glass and durt in them…" Callen replied.

"Not to mention he was whipped," Ratchet ratted him out.

"WHAT?" Michelle demanded as she came on screen. "Where are they? Tell me they're dead, G!"

"Uh…" is all Callen could say. Michelle left, muttering about needing to take a little trip to wish someone a 'Merry Fucking Christmas' for what they did to him.

"Who is she?" Jazz asked, impressed.

"Michelle Hannah. Ex-CIA, now a stay at home mom. One of the scariest women I know," Sam replied.

"The other one is his mother," Callen teased.

"Hey, what did I tell you about talking about my mother?" Sam demanded. "You know what she would do if she saw you like this? Actually, she's here! MA! G WANTS TO SAY HI!"

Callen's eyes widened in horror. "Sam, I swear am going to- try my best to see you all very soon. Hi, Mrs. Hannah," he said, changing his statement as the mother of his best friend came into view.

"Now what happened to you? Michelle is muttering and sharpening her knives in the kitchen, so don't even think about telling me it was a car crash. What did they do to you?"

"Um… Mrs. Hannah, I can-" Callen began to lie, but Ratchet cut him off by explaining exactly what had happened to him.

"Glad SOMEONE has enough sense not to LIE to me, G Callen," she said. "You eat all of that right there, you are way too thin, young man. If I hear that you haven't been eating, I will find you myself!"

Callen gulped and nodded slowly. "Understood."

"God. Now you have yourself a Merry Christmas, G," she said before ending the call. Jazz snickered at the horrified look on Callen's face.

"She sure told you," he teased.

"I'm going to kill him. Using his mother to yell at me. That's just not fair. What am I supposed to say to argue with her? What are you supposed to say when she's yelling at you? That's just not fair!" Callen muttered.

"Eat," Ratchet ordered, chuckling at how the stubborn spy had been scolded into submission by a mere video call. Then again, had the woman's anger and concern been directed towards him, he doubted he would have fared much better.

Callen sighed and began to eat his food, trying hard not to wince with every movement. At least his stomach wasn't trying to exit his body again. He had barely hid that from Prowl the last time he had tried to eat.

Sam himself had finished off his own plate and was starting to doze off. Callen was as well, and he hadn't even finished his. Unbenownst to them, Ratchet was slowly leaking sleeping gas into the room to make it easier for them to actually sleep. Not enough to actually put them in recharge, but enough to make them extremely drowsy.

Callen finally finished off his food and carefully wheeled himself to the sink for dishes that was in the room for precisely this reason. Ratchet scolded him for it, but he was too drowsy to actually pay attention to it. In no time at all, both Humans had drifted into the first peaceful sleep in months.

* * *

><p>The bots vented in relief at that fact, until Ironhide commed Ratchet urgently, having a near panic attack. ::Ratchet, Will just collapsed after vomiting severely after muttering something about Primus meddling with his life…::<p>

Ratchet growled at that. ::Ironhide, make sure he eats and he gets plenty of rest, then get him back to base as soon as the storm clears up. He's not the only one that Primus is talking to.::

::Who else?::

::Who else indeed. Sam and Agent Callen. Neither were very forthcoming with the information, either. None are very happy with the situation, either…::

::We're returning now… glad we were planning to leave right before this happened, anyways…:: Ironhide reported.

::There is a massive storm over here. You can't get to the base right now.:: Ratchet warned.

::It'll be gone by the time we get to it.:: Ironhide assured.

::We'll see you soon, then…:: Ratchet finally said.

Optimus shook his head at the entire situation. "Humans…" That seemed to just about sum everything up about it. Humans… and their unwillingness to get help…


	6. Don't Disobey The Hatchet

_**Okay, so, I don't really like how this turned out, but I don't know how to fix it... so, I hope you enjoy it, and the next chapter is going to be super long, so I hope that'll make up for this!**_

* * *

><p><strong>6) Ratchet's suggestions are really orders. You will not like the consequences of disobeying them.<strong>

* * *

><p>It had been a month since the Bots had found out that Primus was talking to the three Humans, as well as plaguing them with visions of the War. Ratchet had suggested they all report to him on mornings after the visions, in an attempt to track the progression of the war that they were seeing and their reactions to it. Unfortunately for Ratchet, he had not expected the resuts. Sam did just as he asked, normally stumbling over his words. Lennox simply reported what he saw, no more, no less, and Callen just glared at the medic until he was allowed to go.<p>

It also seemed that Callen was still suffering the worst effects. While Sam and Will would vomit about once a week, Callen would every single day without fail, as well as still get too little sleep. Even for him. The twenty minute intervals had decreased to five, and the amount in between was increasing.

Callen sighed, rubbing at his eyes, glad the bruising and gashes on his face had healed, but the nanites had yet to reactivate, so he was still banned from anything that would jar his back, shoulders, stomach… essentially he was allowed to walk. Slowly. Or sit. Very carfully. Or, on a good day and if Ratchet was in a rare good mood, he was allowed to lean forward and dismantle the toaster while talking in Russian to his heart's content. Or until Ratchet got annoyed with him and ordered him to stop. In Russian, of course.

On nights that were like tonight, however, it was bad. He could FEEL the vision trying to overtake him, and yet, he refused to sleep. He could simply not sleep on his side. It reminded him too much of when he was in a bad home, when he would curl up in the fetal position and just try to not feel until he was no longer the subject of his attacker's wrath. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he couldn't keep his eyes opened as he layed on the cot in the room closest to the med bay.

He snapped awake in agony after the vision. It was one of the worst, bloodiest, most horrofying battles he had seen. Children. Cybertronian children. All wiped out in a single battle. Except for one. One single little bot that went by the designation of Bumblebee. Attack on the Youth Centers, which were supposed to be safe places for the neutrals and the sparklings and younglings. The Autobots had been drawn away, and then they were too late to stop the massacre.

Callen rolled over, panting heavily with both the exertion of the task and from the horror and panic and ANGER that was left from the vision. How could anyone do such a thing? Children. Defenseless, terrified children. All gone. That little bot had been forced to grow up in a war, and then he chose to fight in it. He had chose to fight against an army that vastly out numbered them, and not only that, the cheerful young bot had chosen one of the most dangerous jobs of being a scout, someone that would stay behind enemy lines for VORNS on end. For CENTURIES in human terms.

He got up, much faster than he should have because he felt the still healing whip marks break open again. Apparently the whip had been coated in something that kept the wounds from healing, and it was working very well. After a month, they still were just as raw and fresh as the day he got them. No signs of cell regeneration, but also no signs of further cell decay, which was a good thing. Somewhat…

Callen stood, leaning heavily against the wall before turning it and slamming his fist into it, breaking the skin and probably waking every Autobot on base. Callen drew in short breaths, holding his hand to his chest as he leaned his head against the wall. He was going stir crazy, stuck mostly in this room or the med bay, not allowed outside because the salty air of the island could iritate his wounds and seep past the bandages into his wounds. Ratchet's suggestion. That, and they were taking his threat to build a raft very seriously, despite Hetti calling and ordering him to stay there and start following orders from the Autobots. Well, that was too bad for them, keeping him in here, because if he had to spend another hour in this, this… this PRISON, he was going to destroy something. Probably this room. Or the med bay. Or Ratchet. Or Optimus. Or Prowl. Or any other bot on base. But, hey, it was only a SUGGESTION to stay inside, right?

With that thought in mind, as well as two decades worth of learning how to move silently with pain and bad injuries, Callen snuck out of the base. He inhaled deeply, glad for the salty, humid air that surrounded him. With careful movements, he made his way down a cliff to a secluded beach that was actually just rocks and pebbles instead of sand like the other beaches on the island, knowing that if Ratchet had to clean sand out of the whip lashes, he wasn't going to be gentle about it. Don't tell him that it was impossible to get sand under the bandages, because sand could get EVERYWHERE.

Holding his head in his hands, he just listened to everything, drifting off to a dreamless, visionless sleep to the sound of the waves and birds. The night here was cold, but he had a long sleeved shirt on, and that made it bearable, as well as hid the wounds. So long as the bloodied badages didn't leak through the shirt, no one would be the wiser. Not that he needed to worry about that on the base. Because everyone already knew he looked like a half mummy and knew to drag him back to Ratchet if they saw him sneaking around.

* * *

><p>G snapped back awake as the ground shook in front of him. He glared at the ocean, but saw nothing. Still, he stood and retreated to press against the cliff. He hadn't really thought about climbing back UP the cliff… Again, the ground shook, with no visible cause. It happened again. Then again. Than again. Until the ocean suddenly errupted and a Seeker took to the sky, Sunstreaker hanging onto one of its wings but not having a good enough grip to stay on. The golden mech rolled as he hit the very edge of the cliff, sending rocks tumblings down and completely changing the cliff, making it practically impossible to climb. That is, if there wasn't a giant rock wall back at NCIS LA HQ that he would climb on a regular basis. But even so, he still couldn't actually CLIMB it. The bandages limited his movement too much to do that.<p>

So, instead, G stuck close to the cliff and went in the opposite direction of the battle, cursing his bad luck. More ground shaking, more cliff breaking. G could hear the shouts and the cries and roars of pain, and the cannonfire, and was giving him a headache as a vision pressed against his eyes until it overtook him.

It was an attack on another Youth Center, this one obviously taking place BEFORE the last vision because there was no THOUGHT to protect the Centers, the safe places of the War. Callen snapped out of it, hours later, on his side and…

He looked around at his surroundings, finally recognizing the med bay. Or, at least a bird's eye view of it. He was in the Cybertronian part of it. Which meant he was in very big trouble. But G was too enraged at what he had seen to really care about it. How could they have just left their future unguarded and defenseless? If he had been fighting against them and if he were a heartless bastard, he would have attacked the place, too!

He sat up, mildly surprised to find that Ratchet had yet to change the badages, and also very grateful for that fact, because it meant Callen had time to think of what he could say when the Devil Medic started yelling at him for going outside. Or not, because said medic just stormed in.

Callen warily eyed the mech when he didn't immediately start his lecturing. Even more so when the mech simply ignored his patient. In fact…

Callen gasped as Ratchet's servo passed right through him. With that in mind, he took a closer look around the room. This wasn't the med bay on Diego Garcia…

As if to drive that point further home, Ironhide, or, who he THOUGHT was Ironhide, because he looked different than his Earth bound self, burst through the doors, carefully holding a human sized bundle in his servos. Callen recognized it as the lone sparkling survivor.

"Ratchet, this one's alive," Ironhide growled. Callen knew that they were speaking Cybertronian, but he heard it and understood it as though it were English.

"What? But… Prime reported that there were no survivors. Again," Ratchet sputtered in confusion as he took the precious bundle from Ironhide, carefully scanning it and beginning his repairs to save its spark.

"The Cons are listening. It wasn't safe to broadcast…" Ironhide explained, worriedly hovering behind Ratchet as he worked.

"Ironhide, get back or I'll kick you out," Ratchet warned.

As though awakened by that threat, terrified chirping filled the med bay, and Callen stared at the little bot that had woken in a strange place, with strange mechs hovering over him, after a tradgedy that had killed everyone he used to know.

"Easy, little one. You are safe, with the Autobots," Ratchet soothed. Callen resisted the urge to snort at that. The Autobots were not safe. They were attacked every other week!

Even so, Bumblebee didn't know that, and believed the words of the medic as he continued to chirp and talk, and Callen, while not understanding it, could tell he was just asking question after question.

"What is your designation, little one?" Ironhide asked after a long time of answering those questions.

"Bumblebee," the little bot chirped, Callen understanding that time.

"Well, Bumblebee, your questions will all be answered in time, but for now, you must recharge," Ironhide ordered. Callen was surprised. He didn't know that the gruff, no nonsense mech could be so… soft.

Abruptly, the scene of the med bay changed, to the med bay he was familiar with, only, he was staring at his body. His eyes were closed and he was pale. For a moment Callen was worried he was dead, but then he noticed the ragged breathing. Was this what it looked like when he had a vision.

"What was he doing out there in the first place?" Ratchet was demanding to Sunstreaker.

"He probably just wanted some place to think without someone hovering over him! I don't know! Slag it, I don't even know how he got down to that beach!" the golden warrior snapped. "I saw him for maybe an astrosecond while I was fighint with Starscream, and when I found him again under some rubble, he was like that!"

"Yes, I gathered that, Sunny. Get out of my med bay! You're repaired! Out!" Ratchet snarled, all but throwing Sunny out. Callen turned his attention back to his body.

"Is there a reason I'm seeing this?" Callen snapped, not expecting an answer and not getting one. He cursed, watching as Ratchet just glared at his body, making no move to touch it.

"Where have you gone, Agent Callen? What are you seeing?" Ratchet finally asked.

"I'm seeing what you're seeing and I don't know WHY!" Callen snapped.

So Callen and Ratchet sat there for hours, just watching G's body.

"Any changes?" Optimus Prime asked from the doorway.

"No, there are no slagging changes, I've been telling you that for the past JOOR that you've been asking again and again, Prime," Ratchet snarled.

"Yeah, because apparently it's SO important for me to sit here doing NOTHING for hours on end," Callen grouched. "While my body sits right there and I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING!"

"I apologize, Ratchet. It is simply worrysome that he is in such a state…" Optimus replied to Ratchet.

"I KNOW that, Prime, but there is nothing I can do about it! If I try to wake him, I could put him into a coma!"

"Or you could bring him back…" Optimus suggested.

"Coma… Was I knocked out by something? That must be why the vision was cut off…" Callen mused. He walked over to his body, tetering back at the sudden waves of pain that repelled him. Seemed as though that was what was keeping him from waking up. His mind didn't want to deal with the pain. Taking a closer look, he could see why. It looked like he had been buried, crushed under rocks. With his other wounds… he could tell it wasn't going to be pleasant when he woke up.

Pushing past the pain, which that itself took what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a minute or two, he finally reached his body, barely touching his head before jolting away and coughing violently, turning to his side to relieve some of the pain he was in.

"Prime, out!" Ratchet ordered as he sent out his holoform to steady G while shoving the Prime out and locking down the med bay with his true form.

Callen quickly stopped coughing, but that was about the only good thing he could say as images of the vision falshed through his mind. It was a good thing that he didn't have any food in his stomach.

"You. Little. Slagging. GLITCH!" Ratchet roared, smacking him on the back of the head with each word. Callen yelped, and folded in on himself while he tried to sort out his head. Which was pounding and felt like it had been squashed. "Why would you disobey me? Why would you go outside the base?" Ratchet demanded, smacking the back of G's head again.

"Ratchet!" he managed to whimper, holding his head in pain. "Ratchet, they were all killed. All those kids. Sparklings, younglings… they were all killed. All but Bumblebee. I saw it, Ratchet."

There was silence from Ratchet at that. "Sit up. Now," the medic finally growled, pulling Callen into a sitting position while he bag to clean off the dirt and such from his wounds. "Why did you go outside? I ordered you not to."

"Actually, you SUGGESTED I don't go outside…" Callen reminded, flinching away from the medic as he got another smack to the back of his head.

"If I even HINT that you shouldn't do something, that is me ordering you not to. Do you understand that, Agent Callen?" Ratchet growled, roughly cutting away Callen's shirt to get to the dirty, bloody bandages beneath. "Climbing down a CLIFF, what were you thinking?"

Callen didn't answer, too busy trying not to cry out as Ratchet cleaned away the congealed blood beneath the bandages, not being gentle with the lashes at all. Once that was done, he dragged Callen into a wheelchair, cuffing his hands securely to it before dissolving his holo and glaring down at Callen.

"I SUGGEST you tell me what you saw. Now," he snapped.

Callen glared back at him defiantly. "Nothing, Ratchet," he growled.

Ratchet huffed, pulling out a large needle filled with clear liquid. "You can either tell me without the use of drugs or I can inject you with enough painkillers and truth serum that you'll be pain free and babbling your deepest secrets for the next joor."

Callen faltered at that. "I saw the massacre on the Youth Centers," he finally said before telling Ratchet more in depth as to what he saw. "Why the hell would ou just leave those kids unguarded?" he finally demanded when he was done.

"We left them unguarded because we didn't believe Megatron would try to destroy what could possibly be more soldiers for him and that he would honor the agreement that he made at the beginning of the war to leave them out of the war," Ratchet replied before inject G with the needle.

"Hey!" Callen protested until the pain faded and his head cleared.

"Now, tell me about the others," Ratchet ordered.

Callen found himself telling the medic about every single vision he had had to date and being unable to stop himself.

Hours later, the pain returned, surprisingly just as he finished. G bowed his head, trying not to scream because of his back. "Happy?" he finally ground out, glaring at the very smug looking medic.

"Very. I fnially found a method that will get you to talk, which I WILL be using again if you attempt to remain silent. I suggest you do not," Ratchet replied.

"Fantastic," Callen grumbled sarcastically. "Are you going to let me go, now?"

Ratchet chuckled at the spy, shaking his helm. "You are to either be here or in the rec room with Prowl, restrained to the chair, or in your bunk, restrained to the bed with NEST soldiers guarding the door until you've proven that you are no longer a flight risk."

"You're an Autobot, right?" Callen demanded after he processed that.

"I am. 'Else I would have offlined you for what you did," Ratchet replied evilly.

"Right…" Callen snorted. "So, what, you're just going to keep me right here all day?"

"That's the general idea, Agent Callen," Ratchet replied. "Though, in… two minutes, you will be returned to your bunk. Food will be brought to you."

"Wow, schedule and everything, huh? You REALLY don't want me leaving this island."

"That and you should not be doing anything but resting until your wounds heal. Which, hopefully, will start soon now that the chemicals have finally been flushed from your system."

Callen was silent at that, in fact, he was silent all the way up until he was cuffed to his cot and left alone in his bunk, at which point he took the time to call the Autobots all the cursed names he could think of, fighting to get the Cybertronian cuff off of his wrist, not that he made it very far. They seemed to be specially modified for him, because even breaking his thumb would break him out. No, he did not break his thumb, he simply managed that through observation.

* * *

><p>One month later, all but the whip lashes were healed, though another month should have them at the halfway point, unless his nanites decided to online again, the scars of his ordeal would stay with him for the rest of his life. Of course, at that time that he was FINALLY given an almost clean bill of health, the Cons decided to attack. They actually got pretty far into the base. Enough to get to Callen's bunk and blow off the wall and door, looking for something. Callen pressed against the wall, cursing the cuff on his wrist keeping him from doing the SMART, LOGICAL thing and RUN.<p>

"Well well well, what do we have here? A little fleshling all alone?" the Con sneered at him. Then bright red optics widened upon taking a scan of the spy. "This is interesting. What have the pathetic Bots been hiding…?"

Callen glared, refusing to feel the fear that was pushing against him as the Con leered down at him evilly. With one quick, hot shot, the cot was demolished, freeing Callen but also stunning him. He recovered before the Con could grab him, though, rolling away. If only he could get the mech away from the door…

"Stay still, fleshling. Starscream wants to meet you," The mech sneered, swiping for him again. Callen dodged, barring a small nick on the shoulder. He had been sleeping. He didn't have a shirt on. This just kept getting better and better, didn't it?

His surprising luck ran out at the next swipe of the Decepticon's servo, which painfully twisted his arm to his torso and tossed him into the air, catching him in a hard servo, making him lose his breath. He couldn't gain it back, either, as the servo crushed him in an air tight hold. Callen didn't know what Con this was, but it was obviously a Seeker.

Going off of the known Seekers that were on Earth, that was only Blackout, Starscream, Thundercracker, and Skywarp. The suddenly being in one place then being in another confirmed the mech's identity as Skywarp. He cursed silently as he was dropped into a crate, something slid over the top, presumably to keep him from climbing out. Because the spiked metal mesh that made up the sides of the crate wouldn't be deterant enough.

Callen tried to slow his breathing enough that it wasn't sending waves of pain through his body, but it was not working. His back was bleeding again, and this time he didn't have Ratchet to change the bloody bandages. Plus, now his shoulder was bleeding heavily as well, from that supposed 'nick' that Skywarp had given him. Really, it was four inches longs and and inch and a half deep.

Carefully, he pressed his hand to the wound, sitting down and hoping it would stop soon. Even if it had, it would have split open again as the crate shook, sending him tumbling into one of the spiked walls. He got a few more minor cuts, but nothing extreme, something a bandaid could cover.

* * *

><p>He glared up at Starscream as the current Decepticon Leader peered into the crate, sneering down at the fleshling that his trinemate had captured, scanning it for himself.<p>

Unlike Skywarp, he performed more than just one scan that would only tell him if the fleshling had anything metal on him, though he did that one as well. The surface scans brought his attention to the blood and the bandages, as well as the cuff.

Either the fleshling had been tortured by the pathetic and moral weakened Autobots, or he was HEALING from being tortured by other Humans and he was dangerous enough to be restrained. It was obvious that Skywarp had injured the fleshling upon capturing it and it was leaking the red liquid from the wound known as blood.

"Skywarp, you imbecile, you've damaged it!" Starscream snarled.

"It kept running!" Skywarp defended.

Starscream snatched the captured insect from the crate, examining it. "I have never experimented on a Human before…" he mused, intent on seeing the fleshling's reaction to his words, disappointed to find none at all, it's expression never shifting from a neutral glare. Interesting.

With a slice of a claw, he cut through the thick bandages that covered the insect's torso, revealing a multitude of freshly healed scars and some older ones. What kept his attention was the five perfectly round scars that should have been fatal and explained the Cybertronian implants perfectly. It also gave Starscream the proof he needed to know that this insect was not only important to the Autobots, but was also very dangerous if Humans had gone to such extreme measures to ensure it was dead.

Running facial recognition on the insect, he was half tempted to return it to the Autobots in hopes to delay the inevetable offlining that was sure to come for keeping it, and half tempted to force it to work for the Decepticons. A Human with its skills could be very useful.

Then he twisted the struggling human around and saw its back was a mess of torn flesh and blood in a series of criss crossing lines. He recognized them only from the fact that he himself had suffered such markings on his own wings, courtesy of the Autobot, Jolt. Whips. Humans were so delightfully violent when it came to their torture methods!

"It seems, Skywarp, that you may have found us a new pet… but how to break it…" Starscream asked evilly.

"Why break it when you could just make it go splat?" Skywarp mumbled.

"Indeed… it seems as though it is not as durable as we need it to be."

With that, Callen was tied down to an examination table, thankfully on his stomach and not his back, not that it truly helped the situation…

* * *

><p>Callen held back a scream as he felt something press hard on his back, slicing through the already sliced through skin. He blacked out, almost wishing he could have a vision, or SOMETHING to distract him from where he was right now, but all he could think about was how mad Ratchet was going to be when they found out he was gone.<p>

When he came to, he found that he was still on the table, but was no longer restrained and it was like ants were dancing over his skin. Nanites. The nanites had finally came back online. A small relief.

"Oh, look, it's up! Starscream, you didn't deactivate it!"

"Of course I didn't, you moron!"

"But you said that you didn't know if the implants would be compatable with the nanites…"

"That's because the nanites integrated the implants into his processor. They are no longer under my control, which puts a dent in my plan but I will find another way to control the Halfling."

Callen paused his thoughts at that. What had Starscream done to him?

_It would be easier to show you._

Callen jerked at Primus' words, as though he had received an electric shock. He went still again, though, as he was suddenly looking at his body, horrified at the fact that the skin of his back was being held open to show his insides had been turned to nearly all metal. The nanites were crawling in a frenzy, trying to ensure their host wouldn't die. Ratchet was going to kill him. Then bring him back to life, but he would definitely be dead when he next saw Ratchet. Starscream, alerted by his sudden movement, leaned back over him, obviously confused by something.

"The Halfling moved. It should not be able to move…"

"Well, obviously it can move!" Skywarp stated.

"I have the Halfling paralyzed from the neck down, meaning he should not be able to move!" Starscream snapped.

"Well maybe you didn't do it right…" Skywarp suggested, getting himself slammed helm first into a metal wall. Callen was returned to his body, noting how he was obviously NOT paralyzed. With very careful movements, he removed the clamps that were holding his skin open, feeling the nanites instantly sealing the wound to prevent foriegn contaminants. Then, with just as careful movements, he ripped whatever was in his neck out and tossed it to the ground, glaring at Starscream. The two mechs stared at him in shock. "I REALLY don't think you did it right…"

Callen moved quickly, climbing down from the table and hitting the ground at a run, keeping close to the wall and by things that would make it difficult for the Cons to grab him.

"Get him, you idiot!" Starscream ordered once Callen found his way out of the room. It seemed that the Cons were in an old warehouse, and it was in shambles, really. He made his way out of the building, recognizing the area as a place near Phoenix, Arizona. He had safe houses in that city, and this was only about a mile off If only it weren't just open space between the two.

Not to be detered and hoping that Skywarp really was as big of an idiot as he appeared to be and was still looking in the building, he set off at his fastest run, getting into the city without trouble and quickly making his way to the closest safe house he had, relief to find that it hadn't been robbed.

* * *

><p>He showered quickly, changed his clothes, then shaved his head, his hair having grown quite a bit in the past two months, as had his beard, which he also took care of. Then he grabbed one of his many guns, a wad of cash, and a burn phone, dialing the number that Prowl had forced him to memorize.<p>

"Major Will Lennox speaking," Will said pleasantly.

"That's good. Glad someone didn't take your phone," Callen greeted.

He swore Lennox dropped his phone, if the crackling at the other end was anything to go by. "G! Where are you? How did you escape the Cons? How did you get a PHONE?"

"Phoenix, Arizona, I escaped because the nanites activated again, and I'm at one of my safe houses, which happens to have many many burn phones in it," Callen replied.

"You okay?" Will asked.

"I've been better, but I'll let Ratchet tell me the extent of that… Starscream… Well, I'll explain more later. I've still got the Cons after me, and Skywarp isn't dumb enough not to realize I headed for the city and am in it somewhere," Callen answered, hanging up the phone as he saw movement in the corner of his eye. He ducked, just in time for a holoform to punch right where he had been. He swept its legs out from under it, shooting it in the shoulder and making it disolve.

Time to go.

* * *

><p>He crept through the house, ready to shoot at any sign of movement. He slipped into the garage, grinning at the Aston Marton Rapide that was identical to Prowl's LA alt-mode. That should do… He tore onto the street, speeding and zig-zagging through traffic until he reached the interstate, where he melded into it, disappearing as he pulled out the phone again, calling Lennox.<p>

"I'm not in Phoenix anymore. Tell Prowl to start using the little tracking device he implanted in my neck and thinks I don't know about," he ordered upon the Major answering.

"Go to the closest air field. There is a jet waiting there to take you back to NEST," Lennox ordered after a while.

"Got it," Callen replied, making an illegal U-Turn to get to the air-field. He was greeted, flashed his badge, yes, he had brough that, too, and was on a jet to NEST in half an hour, never relaxing until the plane landed and he stepped onto the island, greeted by just Lennox.

"Wow. I had forgotten what you looked like with short hair," the Major commented.

"Funny," Callen replied, walking quickly inside with Lennox. He wasn't surprised to see that any damage done to the base was nonexistant.

"You, uh… you still have the cuff on your wrist…" Lennox commented.

"Yeah…?" Callen said, not sure of the significance of that fact.

"Just noticed. You would think they would have taken it off…"

"No. It was Starscream and Skywarp. They're not the sanest nuts in the asylum."

"That is a very odd but very accurate analogy," Lennox mused, shrugging and stopping outside the med bay doors. "I'm not going in there. He's not very happy…"

"Go tell Prowl that I got back safely before he glitches from worrying or something," Callen ordered, opening the door and cautiously peering inside.

"I suggest you get your aft in here and stay still so I can see what Starscream fragged up," Ratchet growled.

Ratchet had told him that his suggestions were orders, so he did as he was told, finfing out that he now had no organs. Fantastic. But at least the nanites had come online before Starscream gained any kind of control of the implants. Also, apparently willingly returning to base was enough to prove he was no longer a flight risk. Though, Ratchet, being the Devil Medic, made him stay in the med bay overnight to ensure there were no complications from what had happened to him. There weren't.


End file.
